Page 55 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
The teacher, Mr. Halverson, looked exactly how I expected—a balding, middle-aged man with a permanent smug expression—the kind of guy who thought he was smarter than everyone in the room.
He barely hid his irritation when I approached. “Ms. Russo, what a surprise.”
I smiled. It wasn’t friendly. “I bet.”
He clasped his hands together. “I didn’t know you were going to come for the sporting events, considering the short notice,” he said in a pretentious, polite tone.
“And miss the opportunity to discuss how you called my father evil to my son,” I snapped. This time, there was already a small crowd forming, and true to his word, Lorenzo stayed out of it. He just stood there.
“Is that what Matteo mentioned? I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
I arched a brow. “A misunderstanding.”
“Yes,” he said, forcing a condescending smile. “Matteo misinterpreted my words. You know how children can be. I was simply discussing history, and he must have taken it the wrong way.”
History. He was really going to try and gaslight me.
I tilted my head. “So, you didn’t call my father an evil man?”
His smile faltered.
I stepped closer. “You didn’t say it was good he was dead?”
A bead of sweat formed on his temple. “I—uh—well—"
I crossed my arms. “I’d choose your next words very carefully, Mr. Halverson.”
He swallowed hard, eyes darting around like he was searching for an escape. “I—perhaps I was a bit harsh in my phrasing, but—”
“Harsh?” I repeated, my voice dangerously soft.
The teacher shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Ms. Russo, I was simply—”
“Let me make this very clear.” I cut him off, stepping even closer. “I don’t care what personal opinions you have about my family. I don’t care what gossip you’ve heard. What I do care about is you bringing my child into it.”
He opened his mouth.
I held up a hand. “No, I’m not finished. You crossed a line. And I’m going to make sure you never do it again.”
“Pardon?” His voice wavered.
“You won’t have a job tomorrow,” I said simply.
His face drained of color. “Now, wait a minute—”
“Ms. Russo,” a new voice cut in.
I turned to see the principal approaching. She had a calm but firm expression, and I could tell she’d been listening.
“Mr. Halverson,” she said, giving him a pointed look, “why don’t you step into my office?”
The teacher sputtered, but she didn’t wait for a response, motioning for him to follow.
Before they left, she turned to me. “I assure you, Ms. Russo, we do not tolerate this kind of behavior in our school. Mr. Halverson will be dealt with accordingly.”
I gave a small nod, satisfaction curling in my chest. “Good.”
The second they were gone, I exhaled slowly, letting the last of my anger drain.
